


is it the look in your eyes, or is it this dancing juice

by Waistcoat35



Series: they slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered [7]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Discussion thereof, Dreams, I will literally never ever stop naming these after cliche song lyrics you know that right, M/M, Marriage, Sharing a Bed, Sleepy Cuddles, idek, is that how you use the word thereof, or at least, so duh, sorry - Freeform, they are a couple, which, y'know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:08:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24635068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waistcoat35/pseuds/Waistcoat35
Summary: “I dreamt about you last night.”
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Richard Ellis
Series: they slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1772770
Comments: 14
Kudos: 81





	is it the look in your eyes, or is it this dancing juice

"Dreamt abou' you las' night." The sleepy mumble comes from the direction of the head pillowed against Richard's chest. It's a Sunday morning, still surprisingly early for Thomas to have woken up. Somehow, by some miracle, they have both been given a full day off - but spread, this time, across two days. They were both given yesterday evening and today until teatime off, and, once this information had somehow reached the ears of Richard's parents, a mutual invitation for dinner at the Ellis household. It had gone well, though Thomas had been nervous (as he _always_ is about visiting, as if he could ever possibly be unwelcome after the Ellises have taken so well to him - as if he's anything less than dear to Richard's mother) and afterwards they'd retired to bed in Richard's old bedroom. His mother is no idiot, and so he had been utterly unsurprised to find that no effort had been made to direct Thomas to the guest bedroom. 

"Did you, now?" He lets the smile seep into his voice like a pink sunrise staining clouds. He smooths a hand up and down the arm coiled around his chest as he adjusts his book. He'd contemplated going back to sleep after waking, but he's going to have to say goodbye again today, and wants to soak up as much time like this as possible, so that he can wring out his memory for every little detail later on and keep it close until they meet again - the warm weight of Thomas using him as a pillow, the sight of his face free of frown lines, the absolute knowledge that they are here, right now, and things are alright. 

Thomas turns so as to better curl further into him, nuzzles his cheek against Richard's shoulder as he slots a shin between both of Richard's. The arm tightens, and he wonders if there is anyone else in the world who knows that Thomas Barrow is this much of a cuddlebug. "Dreamt th'we got married," he slurs. "You just...went an' married me." Richard cannot resist the urge to raise his eyebrows playfully, even though Thomas' eyes are barely open. 

"That so? Did I do a good job of it?" Thomas does what could be a nod, but is mostly him rubbing his face against Richard's pyjama shirt. 

"Mmhmm. Was nice. 'd say you married me very thoroughly." His grin widens, helplessly. He's often thought that the best types of people are the ones who make you smile when they're not even trying to, and he's been proven right. 

"Glad to hear it." He's pretty sure Thomas is _snuffling_. He must still be tired, and he's about to put the book down and coax Thomas into falling asleep snuggled against him again when he realises the conversation is, apparently, still going. 

"Wish we could get married," he murmurs, and he sounds so _wistful_. Richard smooths a hand over Thomas' hair, tousling it further as he thinks of what to say. 

"When you think about it," he says, "we almost are." Thomas tilts his head, confused.

"Whuh?"

"When you think about it," Richard adds thoughtfully, "a marriage is a religiously-approved way of telling the people you care about that you want to spend the rest of your lives together." Thomas squints, not so much thoughtfully as in confusion. 

"O...kay?" 

Well," Richard prompts, "not sure what we could do about the approved-by-God part -"

"Sod 'im."

"Thomas!"

"You're the one who mentioned it."

" _But_ ," Richard soldiers on, rather bravely in his opinion, "who do you care about the most?" He likes to think he already knows the answer.

"You." He did, in fact, know the answer. He rewards Thomas with a kiss on the nose, and then one on the left cheekbone, for emphasis. 

"The same to you, darling. But who else?" Thomas scrunches his brow thoughtfully.

"Baxter. Mrs Hughes. The kids, up at the house. And..." he seems tentative, unsure of his welcome - "...your parents? If that's not - odd, I mean, I'm not trying to butt in, or -"

Richard shushes him. "I know you're not. And I'm glad that you're close to them." Because he is - he wants that for Thomas. For him to have people like that he can turn to, where he couldn't have with his own family. "My point is that Miss Baxter and Mrs Hughes and mum and dad already know, don't they?"

"Know what?" Despite his confusion, there's a hopeful note in Thomas' voice. Richard tilts his head at an angle to meet Thomas' eyes under the floppy, raven mop he calls hair. 

"That we want to spend the rest of our lives together." And he does know, himself, that Thomas agrees. It's been five years, and he's not sure if Thomas realises how much and how often he says it in so many ways, but - he does. Thomas just stares, incredulous, before swallowing with an audible click that tells of the lump in his throat. Richard pulls him in and wraps his arms around him properly.

Muffled against Richard's shoulder, Thomas makes a noise that sounds a bit like ' _mmf_ '. Richard adjusts the angle so that Thomas' chin is hooked over his shoulder. 

"Say again, darling?" 

"I said - you do?" Richard nods. 

"I do. You do?"

Thomas nods, shyly, the motion just barely felt against his shoulder.

"I do." 

"I now pronounce us husband and husband, then," Richard quips, and Thomas has to muffle himself against the shoulder again as he giggles despite himself. Then, he eases up, propping himself up against Richard, and there's that sparkle in his eye, the one Richard fell in love with after hearing " _Is he often ill?"_

"You may now kiss the groom." And with that, Thomas does, and Richard's grinning into it.


End file.
